


A Cat Called Curiousity

by Just_Jesting



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: Author regrets nothing, Cat being a Cat, Durned Twinkly Sword, Fits in Cannon, Gen, Guen doesn't feel too bad about ending bad things, Guen thinks you mortals are silly, Regis totally understands..., sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Jesting/pseuds/Just_Jesting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion to "Twinkle, Twinkle"</p>
<p>So, Drizzt's faced demons, conned a dragon into thinking <i>he</i> was a dragon, played dodge-rock with giants... but can he defeat a curious panther? </p>
<p>Guenhwyvar is going to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Guenhwyvar does some hunting and realizes something is off...

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter coincides with the end of _The Halfling's Gem_ and adds a little filler to the epilogue.

Guenhwyvar burst out of the astral tunnel alongside the pack of otherworldly cats, dumping the clever little halfling into the guild’s upper hallways. There was no time to waste! The nasty viper-man who thought he could order her to kill her master’s friends was _waiting_ to be found. The halfling – uncharacteristically speedy – darted in front, then paused at the top of the stairs.

There he was: the round-faced viper-man who smelled of spices and fear! Guenhwyvar leaped over the halfling, ignoring his silly attempts at quips. She could rectify Regis’s poor attempts at gendering panthers later; she had a viper-man to fix.

Pasha Pook hardly had time to recognize the dark form that was his doom.

oOoOoOoOo

The viper-man proved easy prey. It was almost disappointing, how quickly the life fled from him. But, the kill was still quite satisfying to the big panther. Even more satisfying was the voice she heard, saying her name, as she casually released the human shaped viper-feeling man’s neck and let his still body fall to the guildhall floor.

As the rest of the pack cavorted and bounded off to hunt the funny-wrong-giant rats infesting the halls, Guenhwyvar joyfully loped to her beloved master. She rumbled a greeting, rubbing her cheeks over his arms and sides, happy to finally feel and enjoy his presence.

But wait: something was different.  Guenhwyvar pulled away slightly, sniffing carefully, inspecting her drow.

There! Her drow was carrying a new scimitar! The blade sparkled ever so slightly to her astral eyes; the twinkle was subtle, though she suspected that in times of danger it would become bright even to young, mortal eyes. The blade also held a whiff of magic, of a kind just ever so slightly familiar…

Guenhwyvar shook her head, deciding to leave the puzzle alone for just a little bit. The blade felt right, and felt good, and that would do for now. Her ears perked at the dwarf’s incredulous “Ye brought _cats?_ ” and she gave a rumbling cough of agreement to the halfling’s statement that cats were the best way to get rid of the wrong-funny-giant-rats.

She rubbed against Drizzt’s side a final time, bouncing her nose lightly against the new-bright scimitar as she passed and lightly padded off to get some of the giant-wrong-rats herself. She heard Regis, the good-clever halfling, say as she left “The regular thieves are hiding in their rooms - if they're smart - but the panthers wouldn't hurt them anyway.”

While she loved her drow, it was nice to have a two-legger who understood her so well.

…Even if he did smell like a sneaky-thief sometimes.

They’d have to work on fixing that bad habit of his, before he caused more trouble. She did _not_ want to have to do this again, even if giant-funny-rat hunting was such great fun.

oOoOoOoOo

Guenhwyvar bounded through the tunnels. The last few weeks had been busy! Her drow had called quite often since they reached the northlands again. There had been lots of goblins and grey-angry-bad-feeling dwarves to hunt, lots of tunnels to search, and the occasional ‘nap’ to catch on top of her favorite red-bearded, dwarven mattress. She had tried doing so to her drow’s pet barbarian, too, with mixed results. The young man was certainly honorable and even clever, though sometimes Guenhwyvar suspected that the Wulfgar thought that _her_ drow was _his_ , which was very much not allowed.

He appreciated being a mattress about as much as the dwarf.

He was also wigglier than the dwarf, writhing and heaving to try and extricate himself from under her six hundred pounds of sleek muscle. But, his tendency to avoid the heavy, sharp, and pointy metal armor that her red bearded mattress loved so much was definitely a perk.

“Well, Guen, I think this might be the last of them,” her drow said, softly. His voice was cheerful, but Guenhwyvar recognized the sad, wistful edge that he almost always had when he said goodbye. She turned and bounded back towards her drow and his young barbarian patrol-mate, swift and silent. She slowed to a stalk and brushed against their legs, winding behind, beside, and all around her two-legged pair of younglings.

That sword, with its twinkling! And that whiff of something, something she was sure she should recognize! Carefully, subtley, she poked the pommel with her nose, trying not to disturb its bearer.

“Guenhwyvar really seems to like your blade. She’s sniffing it, _again_.” the young barbarian said, with laughter in his voice.

 _Fried fish!_ Guenhwyvar growled and then fixed Wulfgar with a haughty stare. As her drow looked over his shoulder at her, grinning, she stubbornly reached out a large paw and batted the sheathed blade once. Just once! 

“So, have you told her about the blade yet?” Wulfgar’s voice was teasing, like a carefully waved tail in front of a young cub.

Drizzt stopped smiling, and studiously _not-_ glared at his young barbarian friend.

“What about it? It’s a fine blade, and I’m quite grateful to Malchor Harpell for it.”

 _Interesting_.

She recognized that tone of voice and the careful indifferent facial expression. Her little drowling wasn’t saying everything.

He had told her about meeting with the Harpells again, while watching one cloudy sunrise. He had leaned against her side gazing enraptured at the diffuse glow through the misty clouds, both of them getting well soaked by the lightly drizzling rain. His story about the banshee and the little town of Conyberry had even been somewhat funny, and she had rumbled her amusement. But, it seems her drow had left something out.

She wound her way in front of _her_ drow and studied his face closely, then sniffed the pommel once more, delicately.

He wasn’t telling her something, and it had to do with this good-feeling, subtly sparkling, somehow familiar new blade of his.

Her drow dropped to a knee and hugged her, breaking her inspection. He mumbled some reassurances about how much he loved her company, and some wishes for a good rest and hunt in the astral plane. Guenhwyvar rubbed her cheek once on his flank, then rumbled as she padded back into the astral tunnel.

_I’m going to find out, little drowling. Enjoy your break, cub…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is Just_Jesting (aka OhShirleyUJest on FF.net)
> 
> I expect this little thing to only be a couple chapters, each chapter detailing one or two longer scenes, and a couple short ones. They're all pretty short. 
> 
> This is a loose companion fic to my earlier story "Twinkle Twinkle". A kind reviewer pointed out that I had neglected Guenhwyvar, who is too cool to neglect. My initial justification was that Guen's been around a while, and would probably recognize the sword -- or, being a panther, just not care about silly two-legged mortal conventions like ridiculous names. 
> 
> Then, I reconsidered. 
> 
> Guen happily colludes with Drizzt to mess with people, by sleeping on them. She has fun bopping baddies on the head. She's wise and nice enough to play Drizzt's moral compass. Why wouldn't she take the chance to mess with Drizzt, too? Also, there's a lot of swords... would she really recognize that one? My prior justifications were baloney, so Guenhwyvar, my apologies for neglecting you. 
> 
> Feel free to sleep on me for revenge, any day.
> 
> Also, I really feel the need for fluff. Salvatore, what the fuzz with this sudden backtracking? I thought you were building a glorious Orc civilization! There were happily fishing Orc youth! There were warm fuzzies, and adorable grumpy-faced dwarven and orcish leaders, scowling at each other across treaty tables. 
> 
> Now it’s all a mistake? BUT FISHING FEELS!!!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first enstallment, and I'll get a second one up soon(ish, maybe.)


	2. Wherein Nobody Understands...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally sat down and added a little more. 
> 
> This hasn't been the best month for Guen. :(

oOoOoOoOo

A Cat Called Curiosity

Part the Second: In Which Guenhwyvar gets suspicious and _nobody understands_. Well, except for people who have no right to understand… Also, some drow cause trouble.

oOoOoOoOo

Guenhwyvar had to begrudgingly admit that Alustriel’s couches were far comfier than her red-bearded mattress.  Alustriel herself was also fairly pleasant; Guenhwyvar could tell that her drow thought that Alustriel was very pretty (in the two-legged kind of way). He also enjoyed her company, although not for playing or tumbling. The two would just sit, and talk, or read, or sometimes enjoy walks in the gardens.

Guenhwyvar yawned and rested her head on her paws. Half dozing, eyes only slightly open, she watched her drow discuss the implications of mortality and the fallacies of doomsayers.

Her drow was a faithful one, never going so far as to let Alustriel have anything she could use as a political advantage over _his_ dwarves. Although, Guenhwyvar doubted Drizzt thought they were his dwarves. The dwarves also clearly thought that Drizzt was _their_ drow.

 _Mortals._ Wasn’t it obvious Drizzt was _her_ drowling?

Alustriel reached over and rubbed the soft fur behind Guenhwyvar’s ears.

Guenhwyvar sighed, contentedly, and tilted her head to bear the fur under her chin for more rubs. Her drow’s lilting laugh drifted to her ears, there was a slight swish of cloth across the parlor floor, and she felt a second pair of hands join Alustriel’s in rubbing and stroking her fur.

The scimitar, still with that infernal, annoying little twinkle, lay abandoned with Drizzt’s gear by the table.

Guenhwyvar allowed them to rub her neck, just a little longer… then pounced! Off the couch, and onto the travel cloak, with the shiny blade between her paws. She nudged the pommel with her nose and batted it once with a large, velvety paw. Then, she looked back at her drow, pointedly.

“Drizzt, if I didn’t know better I’d swear someone infused that scabbard with cat-nip.”

oOoOoOoOo

By the time Drizzt sent her home, Guenhwyvar was almost sure even Alustriel understood what she was trying to do. Drizzt remained oblivious, probably on purpose. He was still as sweet as ever, but when his hand brushed against that particular blade in the pair, Guenhwyvar caught the slightest sheepish and guilty look cross his face.

Worse, Guenhwyvar was convinced that the Alustriel, the shiny-moon-lady, was in on the secret of the scimitar. Her gaze kept going from the blade, to Guenhwyvar, back to the blade, with a tiny, almost hidden, smile.

_Mortals!_

oOoOoOoOo

As Guenhwyvar padded back through the astral tunnel, she took a moment to shake her head and ruff in aggravation. While she loved her drow dearly, his both his “obliviousness” and his obliviousness had started to get rather annoying. Guenhwyvar couldn’t decide which was worse.

Her drow was trying to be sneaky. Good things never came from his attempts to be sneaky. Nothing. Ever. Well, other than when his sneakiness had kept him alive.

Guenhwyvar sneezed in annoyance.

_Insolent little pup!_

Of late, it seemed every time he summoned her that he had some _urgent errand_ that he had to complete, but still wanted her company. They still played and watched the sunrise, but when Guenhwyvar nudged that infernal sparkly-magic blade, he would studiously gaze at the sky, or at the trees, or the stone walls of Mithril Hall, and even the mithril veined cave _walls!_ Then, he had the _audacity_ to look at her after with that sickeningly sweet expression of innocence, personified.

As much as she loved her drow, this “oblivious” dance was starting to be annoying. Had she mentioned it was annoying?

It was not her only problem.

He was also being more oblivious than normal, in other ways. His obliviousness was far more worrisome than his “obliviousness”.  

You’d think after so many decades, he’d at least pick up on the most blatant of clues. She had done everything but roar it to the heavens, but he had just asked her to play nice and told her she knew Regis. Of _course_ she knew Regis!

 _That_ halfling was not Regis, even if he _looked_ like the halfling.

 _That_ halfling was not a halfling at all, _that_ halfling was the smelly bad assassin who _hurt_ Regis and handed _her_ to the smelly-bad viper man.

But, then there had been the goblins and the ettin s to deal with, and _that slimy little not supposed to be that little_ man was following her drow, but she couldn’t waste the time or risk distracting her drow too much from the more immediate threat by ending the bad  sneaky _not-_ Regis.

She had felt a moment of hope when her drow had glanced askance at _not_ -Regis’s ‘uncharacteristic’ moments of skill, but then the moment passed and he was back to his obliviousness.  

All Guenhwyvar could say was that this was _not good_.

_Fool oblivious elfling!_

oOoOoOoOo

If her drow’s obliviousness had been annoying, this had to be sheer hell. Not-Regis was still about, and he had been _alone_ with her precious drowling, and everything about this situation just screamed _I’m a trap; I’m a trap; I’m a trappitytrappitytrap!_

She stalked at point and hoped that her sensitive nose could lead  them to the missing dwarves fast enough. Convincing her drow to leave without finding the dwarves would have been impossible, even if he was listening.

He wasn’t.

Otherwise she would have gotten through to him about _evil-bad-pesky-not-_ Regis.

And, he would have gone ahead and confessed about what was so special about the stupid twinkly-sword.

Guenhwyvar caught a stronger whiff of the elusive dwarves, combined with another sickeningly familiar smell. _That_ wasn’t the smell of lost dwarves.

Yes. This was hell.

While her drow and the little (but not really that little, no matter what everyone else was thinking!) impostor began to investigate her find, Guenhwyvar kept an eye out.

This trap was going to spring any second now, and she couldn’t, for all her years of experience, figure out just how she was going to get her drow out of it.  

oOoOoOoOo

Guenhwyvar was not amused. First her drow keeps secrets, then he ignored her when she tries to tell him that ‘Regis’ is wrong, then he told her to go home when he clearly needed her---never-mind the fact that the stupid drider had slashed her silly!---Drizzt _needed_ her and he sent her away!

Then, after she had just gotten him back, and they had recovered the real-good-but-sometimes-sneaky-thief Regis, Drizzt had _left her behind_ when he decided to be silly about his kin!

He _left_ her!

He hadn’t even _told_ her he was going to do something stupid, like waltz into a city full of drow who hated his guts! And he still hadn’t told her what was so special about the shiny sword of mystery that started it all!

He was going to go to his death with that secret looming over her head for at least the next age!

Guenhwyvar was not about to let him get away with that. Nope. No way. Her drowling wasn’t going to do that to her, ever, ever, again. Guenhwyvar brushed up against Catti-brie, and let the woman lean against her muscled flank.  

This human was a good mortal cub: _Catti-brie_ understood why friends don’t wander off to their doom without so much as a 'by your leave',  _Catti-brie_ would never ask Guen to play nice with the stupid-bad assassin who got them into all this mess instead of biting off his face, and _Catti-brie_ wouldn’t have tried to hide things from Guen in the first place—like whatever the deal was with that sword!

Guen sniffed. Her drow had recovered from the surprise of seeing the little lass here, and had commenced with the glaring and declaring _wonderful-clever-Catti_ a fool for coming.

Guen sniffed. _It takes one to know one!_ She shook her whiskers in frustration, than twitched her tail in triumph when her drow transferred his glare to the assassin.

Then, Guen heard Catti-brie say, “"We've a deal; he got me to ye, and said he'd get us both out, and we're to guide him back to the surface."

_Wait, what?_

Guen stared at Catti-brie in horror.

_Mortals!_

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is Just_Jesting (aka OhShirleyUJest on FF.net)
> 
> I expect this little thing to only be a couple chapters, each chapter detailing one or two longer scenes, and a couple short ones. They're all pretty short. 
> 
> This is a loose companion fic to my earlier story "Twinkle Twinkle". A kind reviewer pointed out that I had neglected Guenhwyvar, who is too cool to neglect. My initial justification was that Guen's been around a while, and would probably recognize the sword -- or, being a panther, just not care about silly two-legged mortal conventions like ridiculous names. 
> 
> Then, I reconsidered. 
> 
> Guen happily colludes with Drizzt to mess with people, by sleeping on them. She has fun bopping baddies on the head. She's wise and nice enough to play Drizzt's moral compass. Why wouldn't she take the chance to mess with Drizzt, too? Also, there's a lot of swords... would she really recognize that one? My prior justifications were baloney, so Guenhwyvar, my apologies for neglecting you. 
> 
> Feel free to sleep on me for revenge, any day.
> 
> Also, I really feel the need for fluff. Salvatore, what the fuzz with this sudden backtracking? I thought you were building a glorious Orc civilization! There were happily fishing Orc youth! There were warm fuzzies, and adorable grumpy-faced dwarven and orcish leaders, scowling at each other across treaty tables. 
> 
> Now it’s all a mistake? BUT FISHING FEELS!!!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first enstallment, and I'll get a second one up soon(ish, maybe.)


End file.
